Blue Moon
New Moon The stars shone like glitter against the inky black sky that night. Discs of debris blew silently like dandelion seeds. It would have been a beautiful night if there was a moon but alas, no. The chalky white sphere had turned away from the world as if angry with its celestial partner. Turning its back on Earth. The air was cool and mystified. The grass wet with dew. The world was already in a deep slumber. No-one went out at this hour. No-one except for one... “The moon is not shining in its right position this night. It is as if it has forgotten what was predicted the previous night.” An old man in crotches found himself staring up at the night. But there was something remarkable about this old man. Not his long silver beard or heavy brow. Not his crooked nose. Not even the splendid starry robes he wore, changing as the night changed as if reflecting the light from the sky. It was his eyes. On first glance they just seemed to be just pale milky eyes, but once examined they held so much wisdom that the beholder was certain this man wasn’t human. Of course being certain does not always mean being right. We humans know nothing; we can only guess we know something. We hold so little knowledge that we do not deserve to be called intelligent life. We think we are clever but in reality we all know we can only guess the right answers. This man however does seem to know something ''but we will never be sure what. “Of course we cannot change the prediction. The moon has to become what it was meant to. The world has to have balance.” Balance? What is balance? If good cannot exist without bad how can Heaven exist? If bad cannot exist without good how can Hell exist? If we are all equal why are some born healthy and some ill? Just a tiny proportion of things we want to know but will never know. The old man stroked his beard. He looked up into the sky and closed his wise old eyes. “''Lord. Tell me why some humans die young and some live to a grand age. Tell me why plants wilt and die. Tell me why trees are considered wise but have never spoken a word. Tell me what will happen when ''they ''die.” A wind rustled through the trees like an answer. The old man in sandals smiled. “Thank you...” You? Who was “you”? Was it God? Was it an angel? Was it the stars? Is it better to die knowing you’ve been loved than to lead a miserable life? Is it better to accept you have no idea what something means than to know everything that is wrong? Is it better to burn in Hell than live on Earth? Is there even a god? How did we appear on this world? Why not any other worlds? Why do we have children when we have to work harder for them? Why are some men kings and other peasants? If I die at this moment this story will never be read but if I live to one thousand this story will be forgotten. Which is best, is not the question. Which is better, is the question. We do not know which is best. We don’t even know about our lives. Getting back to the topic at hand, it did seem this man was a little more. I shall not reveal what ''he was exactly, but he is definitely not what you and I would term “normal”. A fog rolled into the already hazed sky and the old man frowned. It was apparent this was not the first time the moon had disobeyed him. But how could the moon disobey someone? Questions, questions. We must read the story to find them all out. Questions about the past, present and future. Natural phenomenon, strange goings on. The bush behind the old man rustled. He spun round quickly, ''unusually ''fast, for an old man. In the tangled branches two bright, yellow and gleaming eyes peered at him. The old man smiled. "About time," A youth about sixteen or seventeen crawled out of the bush. He was a skinny fellow with a pale, sallow face and spindly little arms. He was dressed casually, but smart. "Found a cure for your blindless yet, Silius?" The old man, who was apparently blind and named Silius, shook his head sadly. "Ah well, you do have something more than eyesight," "Fredrick, tell me, wasn't the moon predicted too be full tonight?" "Yes! Of course! Someone as wise as you surely knows that the moon was predicted to be full!" Fredrick swept loose hairs away from his face. "Then do you ''see the moon?" Fredrick looked up at the sky and then looked back at Silius. "Th-the prophecy?" "Has been fulfilled..." "But it can't have been, we would have heard of it from the Immortal Council!" "Do you think we are still trusted by the Council, Fredrick?" Fredrick hesitated. Silius suddenly looked deadly serious, "I asked the Lord if it could be, he replied..." Fredrick nearly tumbled over. He face become so pale it was almost transparent. Silius bit his lip. "Then what of the child?" "I am not the one to ask, Fredrick..." Fredrick narrowed his eyes. A burst of red soon shot out at the two. Fredrick stumbled backwards as the blackness soon turned to a purple. "The sun!" Fredrick gagged. Silius frowned, "the night has been short..." Choking, Fredrick crawled back into the bush. Silius took one more look at the bush before wringing his hands. In a flash the old man was gone, replaced now by a magnificent eagle with wings studded with jewels. It's took the skies with one mighty flap and soared elegantly Eastwards. It's shrill call pierced the air and all living beings on the face of the planet knew something was about to change... Nail Moon The Lake of Fortune rippled eerily. The image of the evening star appeared reflected on its gleaming surface. The planets would be alligned very shortly...But what was wrong with that? It was just like any other evening of the year! Except...Evil was afoot. Not too far off the lake felt a presence, something without a soul. Something that wanted ''a soul. Something that ''needed a soul. A stallion neighed ferociously. You could see in it's eyes that nothing but pure darkness was trapped inside it. The rider of the stallion was nothing but a shadow. A shadow of the wasted future. The future this world could ''have had. This world deserved that future, but threw it away. It was forgotten. It was mute. It was blind. But you could sense it. You could move towards it. It took no particular shape. Sometimes it was a cloaked figure and other times it was a bright candle. Although it was always, always a shadow. Galloping, the horse came to a sudden stop. The misty air chilled it's bones. The future leapt nimbly from the horse and raised a bony finger. Touching the forehead of the horse was no easy feat. It wriggled and squirmed, galloped and neighed. But somehow the future had an effect on it. Was it an evil effect? No...It was merely an addicting one. An effect that is cast over people silently and willingly, after that they just can't get enough. It was hard to understand but it seemed smoke was coming from the horse's forehead as the futures finger was pressed against it. The lake knew this. The forgotten future was not far off. It had many distinctions. None of it made sense, forever changing, forever shifting. It must have been torture. It was a ravenous wolf, a wise owl. But it could be changed. No doubt about that. Since we shape our own paths we must do what we feel right. It comforted the horse. Calming it down. Despite the nature of this strange entity, nobody could say they were not scared. It was just plain difficult to explain the nature of this spirit in this way. It was just majestic, poetic, depressing. Obviously it wasn't just the fact it was a shadow that made it frightening. What made it frightening was that no matter how hard anyone tried to avoid it, the future would always be in front. We would always go somewhere. There will always be places to discover. So much that one lifetime is not enough to unlock the humankind's full potential. And that is sad... Standing on the brink of the world you could gaze out into the starry heavens and burst out into tears, we will never go there. Think about the men, women and children who never got to live their dreams. The dreams that the future had in store for them. Old men come to a point in there lives when they realise it is all over. Every step this entity takes means another death, another birth, another war... Collapsing the stallion head dropped into the lake. Somehow it didn't revive the horse but merely made it splutter as it slept. We don't know why the Forgotten Future did this at all, we don't know why the future does anything. You shape your own fate, weather you like it or not in the end it's you choice. There is much more darkness in the world than one mind can hold, the Lake of Fortune is one such darkness. Created from the darkest thoughts of any minds that are taking the shape of water. It has no end, it was there when thought itself occured. However had the first dark thought also made the first dark lake, a lake that no mortal could survive. The barely visible moon hing over this scene. Watching in awe as the Forgotten Future began to shape it's revenge. How dare they not let this being live?! It was an outrage! The Forgotten Future first took a branch off a nearby elder tree and fashioned it into a deformed infant. The Forgotten Future then breathed life into it (how a shadow is meant to do all of this is even beyond the storyteller's knowledge!) The strange little figure began crawling but it's mishappen legs wouldn't let it walk upright. It's head was big and bulbous and it's arms...One shoulder was above the other and the left elbow bulged out. It's body was tangled and twisted, it was the Elder Baby. And old man yet a newborn child. It was the presence of age, the presence of change. It could not speak. The stallion bolted upright with a gasp. It spluttered and then began shaking itself dry. It's empty eyes filled with rage and it prepared to strike. His master always treated him with direspect. The Forgotten Future turned and simply raised a bony finger again, the stallion whimpered and shrunk. The Elder Baby looked from horse to shadow and back. The lake watched all this, it was half-beautiful. The darkness and pain behind the scene was npt enough to unattract anyone from the glittery but almost non existant moon and lake whose surface shone like a mirror. The horse suddenly evaporated into smoke and gently drifted away. The Elder Baby wondered if he was the only solid living being here. Elegantly the Forgotten Future began to glide westwards. Confused the Elder Baby followed. The lake was curious. It wanted to follow too so it used it's weak magic to elevate some tiny drops of water onto the Elder Baby's twiglike hair. There the water clung and the lake saw where the Forgotten Future was going...It was shocking... Moon on Fire The beast growled once more. Septimus felt a twinge of fear. The lion strided towards him, blood marked his main. Something ferocious lay in those eyes. Septimus sighed and lifted his sword. The sun reflected off it. The day was glaring hot and miserable. The gladiator looked at his blade, it was not in the best condition, the lion's teeth and claws looked more efficiant. He braced himself and edged forwards. The stands were littered with people. He glanced up at them, probably the last he'd eversee of humanity. It was his job to fight in the arena, he got paid well for it. He felt the sun's rays on his naked back, it was taunting him. He grited his teeth and took a few steps closer to the lion. It snarled at him, he could smell it's rotten breath. "Arrgh!" he screamed as he leapt and then did a complex sword manouvere. He had caught the beast off guard. Now was his chance. Since his last encounter of a terrifying monser in the arena Septimus was hooked. He was addicted to seeing severed limbs. The creature went back a few steps but then snarled back. Spetimus was confused, how could it be out shock already. The golden circle in the sky felt closer than before. The lion leapt, the crowd gasped. It pinned down Septimus and began clapping it's teeth against his chest. It had knocked his sword too far for him too reach. He kicked up his leags and sent the lion flying. The crowd cheered. Hot blood was trickling from his forehead. A monstrous scar was etched on the side of his face. Now before we go any further may I remind you that the lion had rabies. It was a feral creature. Cursed you might say. But also tactical. It didn't make the first move but learned. The same trick never works twice, Aesop immortalised that fact in one of his stories. Septimus skidded for his sword. He saw the blade has been badly bent out of shape. ''Damn it! He thought. It was useless now. He had to take on the lion manually. This thought made him shudder. The lion stalked him, he felt it's hot breath on his back. He spun on his heel, the crowd cheered. Ducking before the paw could hit him Septimus proceeded to run. This wasn't what he wanted. For a long time it seemed the sun was glued to one spot. Septimus lunged forward, trying to catch the lion off guard but it wasn't fooled that easily. Somewhere in the crowd a shady figure was watching. He was holding a dagger. One wire thin scrath ran down the blade which looked like it had been dripped in blood. A scowl was permananlty placed on his face. He was about thrity or fourty odd years and his black hair was specked with grey. Nobody seemed to notice him but he still kept on glancing all around in case he was being spied on. Turning his attention back to the fight he realised it was all over... It is hard to explain what Septimus had done to the lion. Even if I could the result would be too gruesome to say. Blood was splattered all over both their bodies. A pool of warm crimson liquid was oozing out of the dead beast. Septimus' spirits rose. He had once again won an impossible fight. Punching the air he felt thristy. He looked for some water to soothe his nerves. The man didn't take his eyes of Septimus, not even for a split second. What was he doing? Crescent Moon Fredrick knitted his eyebrows. He was growing impatient. Where was he? He ringed his hands for what seemed like the six-hundredth time that night. Fredrick was waiting in his underground home. He wasn't human per say. He was a burrower. Humanoid creatures who are extremely slim and have a foundness for being underground. His fingernails were short and grubby from years of digging tunnels. Another interesting fact about burrowers is that they cannot be out in sunlight or they would melt. They were fully nocturnal. He waited and waited, reminding himself about his chat with Silius a few months ago. The moon was acting very odd indeed. He looked up at the crescent moon, unremarkable. Fredrick sighed and stroked down his dirty clothes. Leaning against his burrow he realised his friend was taking ''too ''long. Could he have been killed? Just as the thought reached his mind he realised a dark silhoutte pressed against the moon. It was swooping towards him. As it came closer Fredrick made it out as a bat... "Rimidalv?" Fredrick asked the bat as it swooped to a stop. It's eyes were burning red and it's wings were spotted. The bat nodded solemly and began to take true form. for a minute it looked like it was suffering great pain. It's torso grew and it's back was hunched over, all the hair on it's face shrank back into the skin and it's features became more human. The process was slow and frightening but Fredrick remained unimpressed. It was apparent it was not their first meeting. Instead of a bat there stood an extremely pale, extremely handsome young teenager. His canine teeth were long and sharp and his eyes looked even redder than before. "I've never heard of a vampire who is always late, Rimidalv..." Fredrick unfolded his arms. "Er...I got a little side-tracked," Rimidalv countered in a thick Transylvanian accent as he wiped blood off his lips. "Never mind, just come inside!" Fredrick beckoned Rimidalv in. Rimidalv reluctantly followed, trying not to get his cloak muddy. The tunnel that leaded to the main room of Fredrick's burrow was long and tiring. When they finally got to the main room Rimidalv was amazed. Everytime he'd come to this specific room it took his breath away. About a thousand other chambers led off into the darkness and there was a real fire. "So what is this all about?" Rimidalv asked. "Silius' dead..." Fredrick's tone was deadly serious. Rimidalv's eyes went wide with shock. His mouth hung open. "H-how?" Rimidalv choked on his own words. Fredrick shrugged and poured some drinks. Rimidalv's was a strange red colour. "Impossible!" Rimidalv shouted before draining his glass. "I didn't believe it either, but the fact is unchangable, he's dead!" Outside the burrow clouds rolled over the moon like a purple haze. It was as if the moon did not want to show it's face. Maybe it was guilty of a crime it commited? Back in the burrow things got more intense. "Do you atleast know who murdered him?" "He wasn't murdered Rimidalv!" "How can you be sure!" "Because I saw his body!" Rimidalv bared his fangs. The wisest man in the world had died! Chaos would rule! Not if the prince of the night could help it! "It isn't your business to interfere Rimidalv! It's the cycle of life!" Fredrick seemed more deadly than before. "Of course it is my business! Silius was the closest adult to me! Unlike that asshole who calls himelf my father!" "Din't talk about your dad like that!" "Why not?! 'Oooh Count Alucard can I lick your butt?'" "Now that is enough Rimidalv!" RImidalv tipped over the table drinks spilled all over the floor. As this rage was happening the fire burned more intensly as if vampires had some kind of effect on it. "Calm down!" Fredrick frantically tried to keep the vampire sane but it was not an easy task. Tears rolled down Rimidalv's pale cheeks. He wepts and wept. Wept not salty water but blood. Specks of blood added colour to the burrows floor, deadly colour. "Easy now...I miss him too..." The departure of the old man left two very hard men in tears. Silius had that effect on people. He was always shrouded in mystery. Nobody knew where he came from or how he obtained his knowledge. "I promise you, I will not rest until Silius is brought to justice!" Rimidalv yelled. The fire roared. Fredrick nodded his head sadly. He was half-expecting Rimidalv to act in this manner. It was part of his character and Fredrick admired that about him. It proved he could stand up for himself. "Let's let some heat out," Fredrick went to open to the "windows" (the loosest sense of the word "windows") Rainwater flooded the room. "Akh, close that!" Rimidalv edged away from the water. Fredrick had completely forgotten vampires were as vulmerable to water as burrowers were to sunlight. He quickly slammed the window shut. "Anything else you would like to tell me?" Rimidalv raised an eyebrow. "Actually, yes..." Two Moons "Come my brothers, rejoice!" Romulus howled. His blue fur had always been shaggy and unkempt but it looked worse than ever before. His eyes were bloodthristy and cruel and his teeth were as sharp as spears. He was pack leader and a darn good one at that! You could see the ruthlessness in his voice. Alas, he had one fear. The moon. Well nobody's perfect, but just think the fright he had gotten when he saw there hung two bright crescents in the sky. His transformation had been less pleasant than ever before. Romulus was a lycan. Into the moonlight stepped another lupine shape, slightly shorter and whose hair was tied with yellow ribbon. Rodrick also looked less frightening than his leader. It was a common tradition that the pack leader be the most brutal looking lycan. A large one with the chest of a bodybuilder was third to show himself. Brute was almost as feral as Romulus but lacked the cunning. "Feast my brothers! Feast on the corpse!" Romulus threw a dirty manlged body to the ground. Howls of pleasure erupted. Blood stained the ground as the seven beasts devoured the corpse of a young girl. Her eyes were silver and her hair was pale. Her age was about six or seven. "Ah, were did you find this Romulus?" a scrawny lycan asked. "None of your business!" Romulus growled. The scrawny lycan shrunk. In the shadows a strange man was watching. In his hand he held a sword with a thin scratch upon it's blade. Do I know who this man was? Certainly not. It is beyond my knowledge until I read the chapters between this covers of leather. The smell of the print I am getting from just reading that one sentence tells me that this man is not noble. Although the human brain has it's limits too. He could have coated his jacked with the scent of swine to throw me off guard. Coming back to the story you must realise that this body the lycans were consuming was not killed by Romulus, oh no. It was founded in a much more diabolical way than merely being ripped apart. This man could sense the stress the lycan was going through. Perhaps the pack leader was losing his touch? Romulus gazed up at the coal black sky. It looked as if it were made of steel. His pupils darted back and forth looking for the shimmering disc of the full moon. What he saw scared him. Instead of one white circle in the sky there were two. They both overlapped to form something much like and infinity sign. Romulus knew what that meant. He had read about something like that in his human form. Oh how he wished he could getrid of that weak pathetic daytime persona. The two moons could only be seen by lycans universally, it meant the coming of the blood age. He didn't need to worry his pack about something like this, it was probably an optical illusion. On his right arm Romulus had the dark mark, three sixes. In human form Romulus was a red-headed satanist who strived to follow the ways of Hell. Flesh was strewn all over the clumps of grass. Romulus had to work hard to kill humans. It was a painful job. Lycans were six times more vulnerable to metal objects and thirty times easier to kill with diseases. There only upside was that they were masters of survival. Apart from those two things it was near impossible to even harm a werewolf let alone kill. The reast of the pack had fled before dawn, except Romulus. He always stood there till the last second. He admired the morning. It was red and hellish. Just the way he liked it. Dew had wet the grass and caused it to shine like a thousand diamonds under the glaze of the sun. Light danced across the skies shooting beams and bringing the world out of it's blindness. Birds began chirping and animals peered out of their cradles. The scene was so visual. As if it had been painted upon these very pages for humanity to gaze at for all eternity. The lycan stood fized to the spot. He waited patiently for the sunlight to bathe his body in golden liquid. The beauty and elegance of the world was taken for granted. We should open our eyes see what surrounds us. We must think about our every move. Such as the complexity of breathing a seeing. Opening our eyes to a world we could have never imagined. A world we will soon discover. The transformation was simple. The fur shrank back into the skin, the snout delongated and the bloodthirsty eyes became human once more. Romulus had lost his clothes upon transformation. All lycans did. That was one of the reasons they preffered to transform in private. Another interesting fact about lycans is that they long for an immortal soul. An immortal soul so that they can feast forever. Upon being bitten by a wolf a human loses his soul and sanity. It is a truly sorrowful fact but one that is true. It had appeared the strange man had gone. Probably he had lost all interest? Romulus lay dirty and naked in the middle of the forest. The number of the beast shone red on his arm. Only merciless sinning could have made that mark. But what sin did he commit? In his mind the image of the two overlapping moons lay. That image would haunt him forever. He was about to return and reclaim what was once his. The horror took mere seconds to wash over Romulus. He had to change. Before it was too late... Half Moon Libraries weren’t the kind of places Rimidalv enjoyed. Who could prefer reading than action and adventure? Although it could be said that Rimidalv really didn’t appreciate libraries. They were sanctuaries of knowledge. Ancient places almost. Rimidalv was the vampire prince. Son of Alucard, the dark king himself. Rimidalv scanned the endless row of books. We do not yet know what he was searching for. Alucard’s castle had many rooms but the library was by far the biggest. Residing in the dungeons and just opposite the torture room Rimidalv could see why no-one came here. The moon was half. There was nothing strange about that right? Of all the moon’s phases half was the least remarkable. But that goes without saying since the half moon is the most curious phase. Despite Rimidalv being one to look at detail he never really appreciated the breathtaking beauty of the library. The carpet was a deep scarlet and the walls were a rich royal purple. The bookstands themselves were ten feet tall and a bold black. Trying to find the librarian’s desk was as easy as trying to find a faint star on a dark night. It was also black and squat. Wraps the mummy always sat there but he was out somewhere. Rimidalv was thankful his father was also out somewhere. Feasting no doubt on the blood of humans. Rimidalv wasn’t much for feasting. Taking the blood of others wasn’t very noble although Rimidalv needed to in order to survive. Many tapestries also hung on the walls. The largest was one of Dracula, Rimidalv’s grandfather and the greatest vampire of all, slaying many humans. Rimidalv’s pale skin glowed in the moonlight. Every once in a while he’d pick out a book but then slam it back in as soon as possible. The volumes on the top were usually the most interesting. His father told him to never touch such books but Rimidalv never obeyed orders. He had a reckless streak. From below he could make out some of the haunting titles. Category:Fiction